


the space we left behind

by fictorium



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-16 15:56:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13057269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictorium/pseuds/fictorium
Summary: Kara hasn't woken up, so when Cat sends a handwritten invitation to the annual CatCo holiday party, Alex feels compelled to go in her sister's place.





	the space we left behind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SapphicScholar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphicScholar/gifts).



> Thanks to @reginalovesemma and @musetotheworld for their editing eyes!

Alex has no idea what she’s doing at CatCo, much less during their annual staff party. What kind of place has a _masked ball_ as their holiday celebration? There’s an automatic growl in the base of her throat at the reminder of Maggie, of before, of all the things that couldn’t hold in the face of Alex being a disaster. 

It makes her think of Kara, who’d be thrilled at the mystery of it all, even though she could cheat with her x-ray vision. But those bright blue eyes that won’t open, no matter what the DEO tries. It’s been weeks now, long days and longer nights of research and tests and failed procedures.

Alex Danvers - scientist and pragmatist, functional semi-alcoholic and non-committal atheist - has been reduced to praying for a miracle. Not just to the vague Christian notion of God, but to a dead star on a dead planet, in the hope that something of Kara’s belief in Rao will guide her back to them.

Maybe that’s why when Alex saw the invitation - handwritten, not the standard one that Winn and James had received - she’d picked out a little black dress and pulled the almost-forgotten metallic mask from the back of her closet. Traveling light, she’s twitchy at only having one gun with her. She never leaves the house with fewer than two if she can help it, but this hemline is not cooperating. At least she has her switchblade for backup. 

She knows enough from Kara’s stories to be sure that Cat Grant is not in attendance yet. Alex is familiar with the way the crowds part for that woman, the way the room holds its collective breath and merges into a new shape to accommodate their leader, their star in residence. Usually that would provoke nothing but an eye roll from Alex, but tonight she’s hoping she can channel all that drama into something useful.

So intent on watching the crowd, she misses the approach from behind until the last clicks of those overpriced heels. 

“You’re not Kara Danvers.”

Alex knows the voice, of course. Has heard it yelling at Kara over the phone often enough, not to mention the years of reruns of that damn talk show. 

“Isn’t anonymity the point of the masks?”

Cat Grant has not done anything by halves, maybe in her entire life, and tonight’s outfit is no exception. Black velvet over barely present curves, cut-out panels with the finest of mesh at strategic intervals, killer heels and those trademark short blonde curls. The mask is more cat burglar than Marie Antoinette, and there’s little doubt that the Queen of all Media is back to tend her empire. 

“I suppose this is where I give you some witty pop culture reference and pretend not to know your name.” Cat downs the rest of her champagne, wincing at it. Clearly they don’t put the good stuff out at these gatherings. “So are you more of a Scully or a Clarice? Not that you’re actually FBI, but…”

“You don’t even want to ask about her?” The lump in Alex’s throat is sudden and hard to swallow around. “She doesn’t even know that you know.”

“I’ve been keeping tabs,” Cat admits, tugging at Alex’s elbow and leading her to a quieter part of the room, away from the overly enthusiastic band and more drunken revellers. “Coming back any sooner wasn’t possible. The one thing I can’t get is access. So that’s now on you, understood?”

Alex nods. Commands she can do. Cat wants to see Kara? Even though she’s not supposed to know the truth about Supergirl? Well, Alex is a soldier, and Cat just screams ‘chain of command stops here’. 

“Do you want a decent drink?” Cat continues, and Alex lets herself be lead to the infamous private elevator. “You don’t say much, do you? I’m all for the strong and silent type, but if you’re going to communicate in mime, feel free to turn around and leave now.”

“I could go for a Scotch.” Alex can swallow again, but her voice is still gritty with emotion. “Which single malt goes best with the most important person in your life being stuck in a coma?”

“Something strong, I’d imagine,” Cat says, jabbing the button for the fortieth floor. When she looks over at Alex, all that bored indifference is gone. There’s only deep concern etched into her features, and Alex can feel the question coming. “She really hasn’t woken up at all?”

“You know what?” She can handle anything but sincerity tonight. Alex reaches out to stop or redirect the elevator but Cat gets between her hand and the control panel, meaning she ends up with only velvet and the warm skin beneath pressing back against her palm. “I can’t…” Oh no. Not now. Not in front of her. “I can’t talk about it anymore.”

“Talking’s overrated,” murmurs the woman who built a career on it. There’s something wild in her eyes that feels like a reflection, and Alex wonders just how much Cat Grant knows about her when--

Well, fuck. 

It’s a kiss, but something in it has the distinct flavor of a punch, like maybe she should be tasting blood. Only Alex realizes the metallic taste on her tongue isn’t coppery, it’s the jolt of adrenaline that’s been missing in recent weeks. Taken by surprise, Alex lets herself be pressed against the wall, feels a perfect thigh slip between her own, bare skin on bare skin and the promise of more to reveal. 

“Fuck,” Cat gasps when Alex grows restless in the passive role and takes her lips on a determined trail along Cat’s jaw. They clutch at each other, expensive fabrics threatening to give way under the desperation of their grasping fingers. “Look at us,” she continues, pulling Alex from the elevator when it hits the right floor. “Dressed for a funeral and calling it a party.”

Alex can’t bear that particular f-word, not tonight, so she kisses Cat again, propelling them past Kara’s old desk. 

“I just…” She’s been to CatCo a dozen times, for lunches and favors and Supergirl business. This is the first time Cat has been anything other than a vague and distant threat. Her office is even bigger on the inside, but Alex feels the judgment of the empty desk outside too keenly. “Not here?”

Cat clicks her tongue in faint irritation, but she leads Alex through the glass-walled office, not really hers anymore, and suddenly they’re on the balcony where cooler air sobers Alex ever so slightly. 

Still. There’s no denying Cat is gorgeous. She’s Cat freaking Grant, and Alex has known of her longer than Kara’s even been on the planet. Why shouldn’t Alex have a little solace? What’s the point of being single and hurting if she can’t use that as the perfect excuse to take some comfort where it’s offered?

Cat senses her hesitance, retreating for a minute to bring the promised drinks. Sniffing lightly at the glass she’s handed, Alex can tell the contents would dissolve most of her paycheck. The first sip confirms it, and damn it would be nice to live in a world where this was her go-to after a difficult day. 

She knows when she’s being watched, not wilting under Cat’s attention. When Alex meets her gaze, tilting an eyebrow in invitation, Cat is quick to retrieve both of their glasses and set them on the balcony ledge.

“I’m not treading on any toes?” Cat asks, eyes darker out here in the muted light. “I had been led to believe you were off the market from the little I’ve ever been able to find out about you.”

“I was. Things change.”

“They do,” Cat agrees, hand on one hip like she’s deciding what to do. Alex makes the decision for them, advancing on Cat until she’s pinned against her own glass wall. The kisses start on Cat’s neck, because suddenly lips feel too intimate for what Alex has in mind. 

And oh, how easily those dresses fall away. The tug of a zipper, discreetly stitched away. The inaudible pop of a button undone, and ruched fabric is gathering at their waists. Alex likes the growl of appreciation from Cat, blunt fingernails scraping across the abs that Alex has put a lot of work and frustration into. 

She has appreciating of her own to give, those petite breasts that apparently required no bra have a magnetic pull on Alex’s hands, cupping and stroking as Cat commands another kiss on the mouth, fear of intimacy be damned.

Not that Cat is idle while they make out, her fingers drumming their way down bared shoulder blades until Alex’s bra is unclasped with a practiced flick. Not Cat’s first rodeo then, though that much was obvious from the glint in her eye before she made a move. She pushes Alex’s dress the rest of the way down, squeezing her ass like the latest acquisition for her empire.

Possessive, almost by default. Alex could almost get used to someone wanting her enough to lay claim before she’s even shown her worth. It’s the first time in so long that she’s let the want want want of her own needs take over. There’s nothing but the firm touch of Cat’s hands and the heat of her mouth and God, the kisses that give way to nips at her earlobe, her throat, her collarbone, they’re scalding. 

Alex doesn’t have to ask if this balcony is overlooked, she’s checked surveillance herself from every angle. It’s a blindspot, which will save on embarrassing exposés, probably run in one of Cat’s own papers. That would take some explaining at the DEO. Alex would be on desk duty for life. Or worse, sent to work for the actual FBI.

She tries not to get lost but it’s been months with no touching, nothing that counts beyond her own frustrated fingers late at night. Cat touches with sure, deft hands, and Alex feels the sensations start to build. She might get lost after all. More than she did on a different Earth, anyway. There’s an impatient huff from between Cat’s lips, as though she senses the dip in Alex’s attention. 

So Alex takes her legendary focus and applies it to the task at hand. And at mouth, and at every caress and trick she can think of, until the most poised woman she’s ever seen is coming undone against the glass. 

Any thought that she might get a moment to catch her breath evaporates as Cat leverages her thigh to flip their positions. Someone has taken a self defense class. Military grade. Alex would be impressed if Cat’s thigh didn’t quickly make way for questing fingers. Any shred of doubt about her intentions is well and truly gone now. 

They’re not making eye contact, they don’t dare. Open eyes mean letting all the reasons this is happening get back in and fuck no, Alex is going to get her orgasm, she is going to feel good again for a few damn minutes. 

She can’t make it better, she can’t undo the damage, but she can have this. Cat’s fingers are relentless, forceful enough to keep pace despite how slippery wet, wet, wet Alex is over how much she wants this. How desperately she needs it. 

There’s no sentiment when she comes, just grasping at those narrow shoulders. How can someone so slight loom so large? Alex could overpower her so easily if it were necessary, though that self-defense move gives her pause. She’s always thought of Cat as tiny, fragile, but up close and personal she’s fire and steel and more presence than Alex can cope with.

“Well...” Cat staggers back when she slips her fingers free, wiping them across Alex’s stomach like a painter applying the final flourish to a canvas. She kicks her dress up off the floor and catches it, not bothering with the thong. She’s dressing by the outdoor couch, covered in a cream, canvas-like material that Alex’s trembling legs could do with right now. Her back slips a little against the glass, she’s sweating a little from the exertion, but she gathers up her clothes and puts herself back together as best she can.

“I guess it goes without saying,” Alex begins, but Cat waves her off with a smile.

“Stress management. Very effective, too.” Cat slips her shoes back on. “I know this might not be the time to ask, but can I see her?”

“It doesn’t really help much, with the worrying,” Alex warns, before shrugging her consent. “But sure. I don’t have my car, but we’re actually just down the block from here, so…”

Cat’s eyes widen at the thought of a secret government facility being closer than her favorite coffee shop. It’s nice to get the jump on someone for a change. 

“And when Kara wakes up?” A test, Alex is pretty sure.

“No reason to tell her everything she missed. Come on, if we move now we can get some time before they start the next round of checks, when we’d be in the way.”

She pushes the office door open to complete their journey in reverse, but Cat stops Alex with a hand at her elbow. “Alex? Thank you.”

Alex nods. If this is her new coping mechanism, so be it. She’s had a lot less fun before, and half an hour of feeling normal has done her some good. Already she’s thinking more clearly, the world coming into sharper focus. Maybe if they try the Martian tech that M’gann brought them, combine it with Saturn Girl’s… okay, there’s a plan forming. 

“Let’s go,” she says. “Let’s see if you’re Supergirl’s lucky charm, shall we?”

“Well, if anyone is, it really should be the woman who branded her. Let me grab a jacket. You need anything?”

“No,” Alex says, and for the first time in weeks there is no aching need. She has a plan, and it’s her turn to do the saving again. 

Game on. 


End file.
